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Invitation
When the world feels unstable—politically, emotionally, or inside our own family—many of us make a quiet promise:
I’ll let myself feel good once things calm down.
I’ll receive support when I’m doing better.
I’ll enjoy life again later.
It is a tender instinct, and it slowly depletes us. It withholds the beauty, kindness, material support, and sensory nourishment that help us meet what is difficult.
The practice here is not positive thinking. It is the more advanced emotional skill of letting mud and lotus be true at the same time. We can remain honest about grief, danger, anger, and uncertainty while stretching—gently enough—to receive something else that is also real.
Abundance is not a reward for surviving well. It is part of what helps us survive, recover, and thrive.
Receiving Begins With Emotional Honesty
We do not become more available to goodness by pretending we are not sad, frightened, furious, or overwhelmed. Pushing away a feeling also pushes away the part of us carrying it. That inner exile is lonely, and loneliness makes receiving harder.
Another kind of strength says: This is sadness. It is visiting me. I can be with it for a moment.
That does not mean drowning in it. Sometimes we can stay for one second, ten seconds, or thirty seconds and return later. Cathy compared this to “burping” a tightly sealed container: a tiny opening lets some pressure and oxygen move. Capacity can grow without forcing the whole experience open.
Acceptance does not mean approval. “It is what it is” becomes a bypass when it means we should have no feelings or take no action. Real acceptance includes the storm and our honest response to it.
Tapping: Strong Enough to Be With the Sadness
Side of the Hand: Even though I am really sad, and part of me wants to push it down, I accept where I am and how I feel. I can be with this in a dose that is right for me.
Top of the Head: This sadness is visiting me.
Eyebrow: It may feel enormous right now.
Side of the Eye: I learned to be strong by pushing feelings down.
Under the Eye: That strength helped me survive.
Under the Nose: And there may be another kind of strength available now.
Chin: The strength to be with this sadness for one honest moment.
Collarbone: I do not have to process all of it at once.
Under the Arm: I can let in a little air and return when I am ready.
Top of the Head: It is okay to be sad.
Eyebrow: I am not abandoning myself for having this feeling.
Side of the Eye: I can breathe with what is true.
Under the Eye: I can choose a small, workable dose.
Under the Nose: My sadness can belong without becoming all of me.
Chin: I am strong enough to feel and strong enough to pause.
Collarbone: Right here, this part of me is welcome.
Under the Arm: Emotional honesty can be the first opening toward receiving.
Ask: What Else Is Here Too?
The transformative question is not How do I get rid of this? or How do I make this positive? It is:
What else is here too?
The sadness may be loud. Is caring here too? Longing? A memory that matters? The pressure of the chair? A loving presence? One color in the room?
This is an expansion of perception, not a correction of feeling. We are not replacing mud with lotus. We are becoming able to register more of reality.
The workshop playfully named “Sad Buddha,” “Frightened Buddha,” “Curious Buddha,” and “Appreciative Buddha.” The point is not doctrine or spiritual elevation. It is inclusion: no emotional state has to be expelled from belonging before another state can join it.
Tapping: What Else Is Here Too?
Side of the Hand: Even though this feeling is so big and loud, I honor how real it is. I wonder whether something quieter is here too, without asking the loud feeling to leave.
Top of the Head: This feeling has most of my attention.
Eyebrow: Of course it does—it matters.
Side of the Eye: I do not need to argue with it.
Under the Eye: I wonder what else is here too.
Under the Nose: Is there caring underneath this sadness?
Chin: Is there protection underneath this anger?
Collarbone: Is there longing underneath this fear?
Under the Arm: Is there one thing in this moment that supports me?
Top of the Head: Both can be true.
Eyebrow: The difficult thing is real.
Side of the Eye: And this breath is real too.
Under the Eye: This sound, color, warmth, or kindness is real too.
Under the Nose: I can receive another vibration without betraying my pain.
Chin: My inner world may be wider than its loudest feeling.
Collarbone: I can let one more true thing enter the frame.
Under the Arm: I am practicing a spacious, honest both-and.
Avoidance Narrows More Than Pain
On a walk, we may train our attention away from fallen trees because loss feels too much. The brain lays a kind of nonstick coating over what hurts: Do not notice that. Yet maintaining the detour takes energy. When attention is busy avoiding the fallen tree, it may also miss the pine sap, the birdsong, and the life rising around it.
This does not mean staring at every wound. It means noticing that we are no longer as helpless as the younger self who built the filter. We can take reality in small doses. Honoring what fell can restore our capacity to smell what is still alive.
Tapping: Fallen Trees and Pine Sap
Side of the Hand: Even though my brain learned not to notice what had fallen, because it believed I could not handle it, that protection made sense. I am open to taking in a little more reality now.
Top of the Head: Do not notice the fallen trees.
Eyebrow: Slide right past what hurts.
Side of the Eye: That kept me safer in some ways.
Under the Eye: And it takes energy to keep diverting my attention.
Under the Nose: I am not as powerless as I once was.
Chin: I can notice one fallen thing without flooding myself.
Collarbone: Things fall, and I can feel sad about that.
Under the Arm: I can take it in a dose my body can hold.
Top of the Head: I want room to honor the fallen trees.
Eyebrow: And room to smell the pine sap.
Side of the Eye: I want to hear the birds and feel the weather.
Under the Eye: I do not have to choose numbness or overwhelm.
Under the Nose: I can gently widen my channels of receiving.
Chin: More reality can include grief and beauty.
Collarbone: My awareness can become more richly alive.
Under the Arm: I can meet what fell and receive what is here now.
It Is Already Later
Many of us were taught that enjoyment belongs after the work: stop dawdling, stop looking at dandelions, get in the car, be useful. Later becomes another task list, another crisis, another tired evening.
The workshop offered a mischievous reframe:
They said enjoyment was for later. Look—it’s later.
Receiving does not require a dramatic experience. We might let one simple uplift land for 17 seconds: cool crystal, warm mug, soft cloth, light through a curtain, the scent of rain, Orion over a parking lot. This is not frivolous. Tiny amounts of a vitamin matter. Goodness can be energetic nutrition—something essential our system has been missing.
Tapping: Enjoyment Was for Later
Side of the Hand: Even though I learned that enjoyment was for later, after everything important was done, I respect how deeply that rule shaped me. And I notice that it is already later.
Top of the Head: Enjoyment is for later.
Eyebrow: First be useful, productive, and responsible.
Side of the Eye: Do not waste time receiving something good.
Under the Eye: But later keeps moving.
Under the Nose: Look—it is later now.
Chin: This is my time.
Collarbone: This is my precious life.
Under the Arm: I can receive something that nourishes me now.
Top of the Head: Seventeen seconds of simple uplift.
Eyebrow: Not to erase what is hard.
Side of the Eye: To feed the part of me living through it.
Under the Eye: Warmth, scent, texture, color, sound.
Under the Nose: My senses can let goodness become real in my body.
Chin: I do not have to earn every nourishing moment.
Collarbone: Receiving is part of my resilience.
Under the Arm: It is later—and I am allowed to live now.
Different States Need Different Doorways
Beauty is not always the accessible door. When we are disoriented or overstimulated, something dazzling may ask too much. The body may need heat, familiar sound, steady pressure, rhythm, or feet on the floor.
That is not failure. It is savvy reception. Instead of performing gratitude, we ask: What kind of goodness can my system actually receive now? Perhaps the answer is not delight but orientation. Not awe but settling.
The senses help because they do not require us to win an argument with our thoughts. The pressure of our tapping fingers, warmth on the skin, or one familiar sound can bring us out of threat-and-hurry and into this moment.
Tapping: Twenty Seconds of Sensory Receiving
Side of the Hand: Even though my brain is tuned to threat and hurry, and slowing down can feel irrelevant or unsafe, I am curious whether twenty seconds of sensing could give me something I need.
Top of the Head: My brain wants to stay very busy.
Eyebrow: It is scanning the future and replaying the past.
Side of the Eye: No wonder I feel depleted.
Under the Eye: I do not need to force myself into joy.
Under the Nose: I can notice the touch of my fingers on my skin.
Chin: I can notice one temperature, sound, scent, or texture.
Collarbone: What feels settling rather than impressive?
Under the Arm: What can my body receive without strain?
Top of the Head: Just twenty seconds of contact.
Eyebrow: Perhaps my heart slows a little.
Side of the Eye: Perhaps I drop one layer into the present.
Under the Eye: This goodness does not have to fix my life.
Under the Nose: It can be one essential nutrient.
Chin: I can listen for the doorway that fits this state.
Collarbone: Receiving can be gentle, practical, and embodied.
Under the Arm: Right now, I let one supportive sensation land.
Practices for Living This Skill
Let one true feeling belong
Name what is present without trying to improve it: Sad. Frightened. Angry. Confused. Choose a duration that feels workable. Honesty is already contact.
Ask the widening question
In a hard moment, ask: What else is here too? Wait for an actual perception rather than manufacturing a positive answer.
Receive a 17-second uplift
Choose one sensory experience and stay with it long enough for it to register. Notice when the mind turns it into evaluation or utility, and return to direct contact.
Seek nutrition, not performance
Ask, What would nourish or orient me now? The answer may be warmth, pressure, rhythm, familiar sound, beauty, food, help, or rest.
Practice mud and lotus
State two truths together: This is painful, and I am supported. I am uncertain, and I can feel my feet. Let neither truth cancel the other.
Bringing It Into Your Life
Life is not going to become uncomplicated enough to grant us permanent permission to receive.
The skill is becoming able to welcome more of reality: pain without exile, beauty without guilt, support without having earned it, and sensory goodness without insisting it solve everything.
Some days the available shift will be awe. Some days it will be the smallest settling. We do not force the lotus or deny the mud. We strengthen our capacity to be touched by a life that contains both.
The hard is here. The good is here too. Let something nourishing land.
Continue the Conversation
Questions, reflections, and real-life examples are welcome. Continue the conversation about Receiving What’s Good – Even When Life Is Complicated in the Thriving Now Center.